


to die by your side is a heavenly way to die

by TheSmellOfDustAfterRain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: :' -(, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I sobbed writing this, I wrote this on my cellphone, I'm Sorry, M/M, Suicide, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:22:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmellOfDustAfterRain/pseuds/TheSmellOfDustAfterRain
Summary: And if a double-decker busCrashes in to usTo die by your sideIs such a heavenly way to dieAnd if a ten ton truckKills the both of usTo die by your sideWell the pleasure, the privilege is mineOh, there is a light and it never goes outThere is a light and it never goes out





	

Sherlock levels the gun at the explosive-covered coat, hoping. Hoping for something to break the impending disaster. The tension builds.

Sherlock casts one more desperate glance at John. John who had so seamlessly woven himself into every fibre of his being. Who invaded his every thought. The man he he was too scared to love.

John was there, would always be there. He trusted Sherlock so deeply and softly nodded his head.

Sherlock pulled the trigger.

LIGHT. HEAT. PAIN.

The explosion caused debris to fly out around the pool. It hit Sherlock's head and leaving long gouged in his arms, which he'd thrown up to protect his face. Otherwise, he wasn't too bad off.

"Sherlock," John groaned. Sherlock spin around. John was prone, on the floor pressing on his blood soaked leg. Sherlock dropped to his knees.

"John? John!" Sherlock cried.

John shushed him. "I've only got a few minutes. I need to tell you... I need you to know. I love you. Have since our very first case. You changed my life. You saved my life. I was so alone and I own you so much. I love you, and I am sorry I waited too long to tell you. I love you. I love you. I love you..."

"John!?! JOHN! No, please. You have to wake up!" Sherlock sobbed as he tried to shake alive his: flatmate, blogger, only friend. "JOHN!!!" he screamed.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped away. Mycroft stood above him. "He's gone, Sherlock," he said softly. He wrapped his arms around his little brother.

"NO!! I have to go to him! I need to be with him!"

"No, Sherlock. You need to stay here. You're needed here."

Two paramedics had rushed over to the scene and were restraining Sherlock as he continued to scream. "Let go of me! I need to go with him! I need him!" One of the medics slipped a needle into his arm, and he could feel the tranquilizer flow into his bloodstream. The world went hazy, then dark.

* * *

Sherlock was hospitalized, placed on suicide watch. Three weeks later he was back in 221B to collect a few things he would need at Mycroft's home.

It was too much. John was everywhere. Humming to himself in the kitchen, tapping away on his laptop, smiling brightly at Sherlock's deductions.

Sherlock was shaking and fell to the floor when the doorbell rang. He dragged himself up and answered. A young, Sandy-haired man stood outside. "I have something for you, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock hesitantly let him upstairs. The man looked around, uncomfortably, and then sat down on the sofa whilst pulling a brown paper had from his coat. He set the bag on the table.

"He, that is Dr. Watson, wanted me to come to you if anything happened to him. He told me you might need me, my story that is." He took a deep breath.

"I'm a nurse on the paediatric floor. Dr. Watson would sometimes come to see the kids on his breaks. He'd tell tell them of the amazing adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The kids loved him. He was this beacon of light."

"All the nurses loved him. Always knew when something was wrong. Have advice to those who needed it. He was like a father to me."

"He said if anything happened to him, he wanted all his assets to go the hospital, to the kids."

"And, he said to bring you these. To remember him by."

He pulled out John's phone, his cane unscrewed into its smaller parts, and row bottles each containing a single pill.

The man for up to leave.

"Wait," Sherlock said, "what's your name?"

"Hamish Ainsley, sir"

A small, unbidded smile ghosted Sherlock's lips. "Hamish, I would like to offer the same as Dr. Watson. All that I have I want to, in some way, find its way to help the hospital. You'll find £100 000 to my name as well as various antiques worth perhaps as much belonging to me."

"Mr. Holmes," Hamish stuttered. "I can't accept."

"This is private donation to an institution. I will have my brother take care of everything, I am certain he will not deny me."

"They might make a monument to you." Hamish said.

"As long as I and John are together. And I'm not wearing that God awful hat."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Truly, thank you." Hamish left with a smile on his face.

 

Sherlock was left alone with John's parting gifts. The cane brought back memories of their first chase through London. Later resting, panting against the wall. The phone, his first deductions that amazed John. All very goo memories of their first case.

The pill bottles were different. Different pills, of course, but different memories. Looking back, Sherlock had most likely chosen the wrong pill, the pill that would have ended him. John save him.

Sherlock had been offered a choice before and been wrong. Now, John was offering him a choice. And, Sherlock was making his choice.

He unscrewed the lid off one bottle and, without hesitation swallowed the pill.  _I'm coming, John._ He thought as the world went hazy, then dark.

The second pill, clearly a paracetamol, remained undisturbed.

* * *

"I love you, John. With my whole mind, with my whole soul. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Sherlock."

They embraced and cried and laughed and loved each other.

"By the way. Happy birthday, John."

**Author's Note:**

> The only place I found anything on John's birthday was on bakerstreet.wikis.com and that said April.  
> The Great Game happened on April 1st, so I'm saying John's birthday is in late April.


End file.
